The Only Potter
by calypsopotter18
Summary: Anna Potter, the last remaining Potter. She belongs to Voldemort. She is Harry's younger sister. Will she ever escape the clutches of Voldemort? Starts in seventh year. Harry, Lily, and James are dead. Sirius has escaped from Azkaban. Dumbledore is still alive. Rated T for swears and violence. First two chapters are a dream except for anything in italics.
1. Default Chapter 1 (Introducing)

A/N: May come across as Mary Sue. There is not a lot of character development in this chapter so the character may come across as such. Trust me, I will eliminate that later.

"Should she really start? Anna, get in here!" I stepped into the room. I'd been eavesdropping on the conversation between the Dark Lord and Severus Snape.

"Yes sir?" I asked feebly.

"Severus believes you should go to Hogwarts. I am thinking you should start. Do you have a strong opinion?" I shook my head, knowing whatever I said would be ignored anyway. The conversation began again. I wanted to go to Hogwarts. I wanted to get out of this hell hole I'd been trapped in since I was a year old. I didn't belong here. I was a Potter, not a Riddle or a Malfoy. I was a good person, not a deatheater. I couldn't stand up for my opinion though. I was too scared of what the Dark Lord would unleash on me. I had enough scars. I didn't want to add more to the collection that covered my small, weak body. My mind flashed through memories that I'd been trying to suppress all day. Three flashes of green, three different screams, and three dead bodies. I was the only Potter left, and I was trapped by the greatest enemy.

"Anna, are you paying attention?" He screeched. I snapped out of my depressing and recurring nightmare.

"I'm sorry, sir." I squeaked quietly. I was too weak to say anything but that. He didn't unleash any wrath, but he instead stared at me with an amount of interest that had never been seen before by me or anyone else.

"I think I'll send you there. You'll need to control your magic. You'll go with Draco. Narcissa will get you robes. Now, leave us." I walked quickly out of the Malfoy's drawing room. After the murder of my family, Voldemort had disappeared to the public eye. That was the only reason Albus Dumbledore was still alive. I'd lived at Malfoy manor for pretty much my whole life. I didn't know what awaited me at Hogwarts. I was nervous. I was also excited.

**6 YEARS LATER…..**

**(WE WOULD REFER TO THIS AS THE 7****TH**** YEAR)**

"Anna, how've you been?" Hermione asked, pulling me into a hug. I was still damaged from spending the summer with my "master" as he liked to say. Broken ribs were all I had contracted this holiday that I hadn't been able to fix. I winced as the hug became tighter. Hermione saw my face contort with pain and pulled away.

"Sorry." She apologized. I waved it off. It wasn't her fault. We grabbed our seats on the train, and she started her magic on my ribs and on concealing all of the leftover scars from all of the things I'd fixed myself. I sat up after twenty minutes of lying across the seat and felt a hell of a lot better than I had since June.

"Thanks, Hermione, I really appreciate it."

"It's the least I could do." Our compartment door slid open, and Ron Weasely walked in. Hermione groaned, but I hit her gently on the arm. Ron was my friend and she didn't have to groan every time she saw him.

"Thanks for the warm reception. You alright after your summer torture session?" He asked. They were the only people besides Draco who knew about the fact that I lived with Voldemort as his "slave" as Draco called it. It was pretty much true, I will admit.

"Hermione healed my ribs, so yeah I guess I'm fine." Ginny Weasely opened the compartment door.

"Can I sit with you guys?" She asked. I nodded and gestured to the seat across from me. The three began talking, but I hung back. I'd just spent my disastrous summer pretending that I was still a shy, timid little girl, when in reality, I was a (or at least attempting to be) a regular teenage girl. I watched the hills and rivers roll by as the journey continued. I was ready to be myself again. I needed it.


	2. Memories

I jumped out of my seat a little as the train lurched to a stop. The calm that had settled over me was gone now. I was back at a safe haven, but I also back at a dark place. I needed Hogwarts for nine months out of my year. It didn't add anything good though to have Severus Snape watching my every move. He sent every little tad of information about me back to Voldemort. However normal I acted, the only person I was truly afraid of was the Dark Lord. He held all of the cards. He could toss me aside in any vicious manner he chose. _However free I felt like I was, I didn't truly have any freedom. My life was hell no matter where I was. I didn't really have a secret place anymore. When I was younger, I found little hollows all throughout Malfoy Manor. I would hide from the Dark Lord in there as long as I could. If he found a particular spot, I just changed it the next day. He considered it to be a game of hide and torture. I considered it a game of hide and face the consequences. I spent my childhood playing a game of death. I'd still evaded what was to be my fate, but I knew I wouldn't last much longer._ Numbly, I followed Hermione, Ron, and Ginny off of the train. I couldn't think about much. I was wrapped up in memories and flashbacks to my life.

_8 years old: I hid from him for too long. It was not appreciated. A two hour torture session ensued. I screamed, but never cried._

_9 years old: I talked back under my breath. It was heard. Cuts, broken bones, and multiple severe curses. I was broken down after that. Narcissa Malfoy healed me in secret. She always acted like a mother. I was well hated by Lucius and Draco though._

_10 years old: I was caught outside my broom closet of a bedroom after midnight. Madame Lestrange caught me this time. She knows no such thing as mercy. I was hit, tortured, cut, and broken. I still never cried. I was too used to the pain. I accepted it for there was nothing else to do._

_11 years old: It was decided that I would go to Hogwarts. A long conversation of does and don'ts ensued. I swore under my breath. I was caught. I was talking with Snape. Sectemsempra was brought about. I bled for hours. Narcissa Malfoy healed me once again. She was the only motherly figure in the house. I assumed that she understood neglect and pain. This is why I never went to Hogwarts.  
_

The memories were too painful to bear. I didn't cry though. I had never cried in my life. I'd put up an emotional barrier. I'd never felt the need to break it down. I shuddered as I finally came out of my numbness. The cool fall air had finally hit me. I didn't have a jacket. That's what happens when no one provides for you. I allowed myself to come out of the dark place called my mind. I was never a social being due to years of being kept in a dark place. Hermione constantly attempted to bring me out of myself, but her attempts were never successful. We sat at the Gryffindor table. I was immediately overwhelmed by the memories that filled the hall. This was the only place where all good memories arose. I sighed quietly. I glanced around, my paranoia bringing itself to the forefront of my mind. I caught Snape's eyes me, watching me with intensity. Security had become more enforced on me this year. I tried several times to escape this past summer; so as a result, there were always a pair of eyes watching me. Whether they were Snape's, Draco's, or anyone else's, I knew to ignore them. My thoughts, concerns, memories, and other things enveloped me again. I missed the entire sorting and feast altogether. I must've eaten because I felt a little sick from being full. Hermione touched my arm. She was clearly worried, but she didn't want to say anything. We'd gotten into a fight years ago over her interrupting my thoughts. Obviously, we didn't want a repeat of that catastrophe, so we'd agreed to not interrupt one or the other while we were thinking. It had become a fantastic compromise. I followed her upstairs to our dorm room. I opened my trunk which contained almost nothing. I threw on the ratty pair of sweatpants and the disgusting old t-shirt from when I was eleven. Everything still fit from then. I guess hardly being fed had its advantages at times. Although it was early, I slipped in between the sheets and drifted off. I needed my escape from reality. Unfortunately, my subconscious had other ideas. I wasn't going to have a peaceful sleep. Then again, I never really did, did I?


	3. Reality Returns

**AN: Chapters 1 and 2 are not reality… or are they? They are kind of halfway in between.**

I awoke from the pleasant dream, wishing it had been real. I looked over at my watch, a gift from Narcissa when I turned eleven. I'd kept it hidden from the Dark lord, and I planned to keep it that way. 3:00 am, not a pleasant time to wake up. I had to wake up permanently in just three short hours. I can't say there's much housework to be done for Voldemort, but the Malfoy's always seem to have an extensive list. I rolled over onto my side, wishing sleep would come easily. It never does. I laid there for hours, until it was truly time to wake up. No one else was awake to my knowledge, and 6 am is the only time I can take a shower. I hop in and do a quick five minute routine. I get dressed in a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt. We're not fancy around here. Well, apparently, I'm not allowed to own anything nice. Narcissa, when she brought things home for me, always roughed them up a bit before allowing me to wear them. All I owned were old robes, jeans, t-shirt, and tank tops. Maybe one pair of beat up old high tops that Bellatrix had found on the side of the road. I made my way downstairs, my vision blurry from lying awake in the dark for hours and not being able to see a thing in that darkness. I found the drawing room and began silently preparing it for the upcoming deatheater meeting. All in all, it took me about two hours. By this time, Draco was the only other person awake in the house. I knew because I could tell where the sound of footsteps came from in this house by now. I continued with my work, making sure everything was perfect. I finished the work and moved on to the kitchen. I knew within a matter of minutes that the rest of the house would be up. They would all want breakfast. Every house elf had either been kicked out or killed. I was the only person who worked the house. I heard footsteps coming from everywhere. I made the same thing for everyone while respecting dietary preferences. I placed it in appropriate spots on the table. I cleaned up my work and waited for the crowd to shuffle in. I was greeted with glares and nods. A smile from Narcissa flashed by my eyes. I waited in the back of the kitchen. Surprisingly, no one criticized my work. Voldemort swept into the room. I cowered into the corner.

"Potter, did you set the meeting room?" he interrogated. I nodded meekly. However accurate my dream may have described me; I was still that little terrified seventeen year old girl. I left the room to go fix my hair again. I'd just thrown it into a ponytail and figured they wouldn't appreciate it much longer. I braided my hair the way Narcissa had showed me years ago. I walked down to the entry hall of the manor. I was ready to accept the deatheaters that would be here soon.

"Potter, come here." Voldemort's voice carried through the halls to my ears. I walked down to the only place he would be waiting; the first place I ever hid.

"Yes my lord?' I kept my eyes downcast, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"I want you to stay away from the meeting and deatheaters today. Stay in your room until I call for you. Is that understood?" I nodded quickly and left for my bedroom. I sat in my room for an hour, maybe two. I can't keep track of time. I didn't want to. I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling. There was a gentle knock at my door. I straightened my clothes and fixed my hair quickly. I pulled open the door, meeting eyes with a boy who'd been robbed of innocence, humanity, and childhood; Draco Malfoy. He hated me, I feared him. Our relationship was that simple. He grabbed my arm and yanked me down to the drawing room. We didn't speak the whole way down. He pushed me into the room and took his seat again. I stood in plain view of every deatheater. I was dead pale, shaking, and terrified for my life. I was weak.

"Potter." Voldemort spoke one simple word; a cruel, malicious smile beginning to spread across his face. I had fear. Fear for my life.


	4. Torture Ensues

"Look at this poor specimen of a girl. She's so meek, so small, and so… insecure." He began. I was trembling in my shoes. I knew pain was coming. I wanted to close my eyes, but I needed to know where everyone was to ensure my safety.

"A lot of you have wanted your go at her for a while now. You're about to have your turn. Each and every one of you. Make a line starting five feet in front of her. I'll mandate who does what when. What are you waiting for?" All of the deatheaters scrambled up from their seats to have their chance to torture the only Potter. Bellatrix was the first in line, Voldemort stood beside me, a malicious half smile spreading slowly across his face.

"Go ahead Bellatrix. Do your worst. But remember all, we can't kill her. And be sure to make the incantation silent. We can't let the girl know what's coming can we?" Several grunts of disappointment came from around the room. Bellatrix's eyes went crazy. I began backing up towards the door, but Voldemort was pushing me forward. Bellatrix made an x with her wand, and I fell to the floor screaming in anguish. Cackling filled my ears. I felt the wounds opening and the blood flowing. I laid there, not crying, but wishing I could. She stepped away; a glint of hatred mixed with happiness filled her eyes. I stayed down on the floor, wishing I could die. Slowly, each and every deatheaters did something to me, all 70 of them. Draco Malfoy was last. I was practically unconscious by the time he got to me, but Voldemort kept reviving me so that I could feel the pain.

"Go on Draco, I know you don't like the girl." Voldemort pushed him. I looked up at the blur that was his face. There were only three of us in the room. Draco had to show courage to prove to him something.

"Crucio." He muttered quietly, almost silently. It didn't hurt as bad as I was used to, but I put on a bit of a show. I enjoyed making someone feel guilty. Draco flinched when he heard my screams.

"Excellent Malfoy, you did an excellent job. You may go." Draco left quickly. I stayed in the pool of my own blood on the floor while Voldemort paced around me.

"You're still conscious? I find that impressive. You're stronger than I thought." I remained still, focusing on breathing so that I wouldn't die. I had to keep myself alive. I couldn't die however much I wanted to. He picked up my limp, bleeding, broken body and set me on the table. I heard unintelligible incantations be uttered from the mouth of my captor. I felt my ribs come back together and my legs slowly heal. My arms were fixed and the gashes on my stomach became scars. Permanent scars, but just scars none the less.

"Why are you helping me? I thought you hated me." My voice sounded as though I'd been eating sand and gravel.

"I can't have you dying on me, now can I? You're crucial to my operations." He replied, smiling a little. Not that his smile was the least bit reassuring or comforting, but it did make me wonder what he was up to. I struggled to remain conscious. I could tell he'd left the room by the lack of paced breathing. Footsteps entered the dark room. I began trying to sit up, but hands pushed me back down onto the table which was now covered in my blood.

"Stay down love." Narcissa whispered, picking me up. She carried me up to my bedroom and laid me on the bed.

"He started…" I began. Narcissa put her fingers to my lips to quiet me. She removed my shirt to check the damage. She wasn't surprised that it was mostly healed, but she then cleaned all off the blood off of me and fixed the remainder of the injuries. She left me in bed. I was lying in there for hours until I finally drifted into a peaceful sleep.

. . . .

"It's inhumane what he did to her Lucius. I don't care how much we hated the Potters. You especially I'm ashamed of. Why hurt the poor thing even more?" I awoke to this argument. I kept my eyes closed, wanting to hear what was about to be said.

"Why do you have so much compassion for this insolent fool of a girl, Narcissa?" Lucius Malfoy responded.

"I feel she should be treated as a human being that's all."

"Lucius, Narcissa, Bellatrix requires your presence. Please go." another voice spoke. It was Voldemort. The two left quickly. I kept my eyes shut tightly, not wanting him to know I was awake.

"I know, Potter. Open your eyes." Slowly and unwillingly, I did. He stared at me for a few minutes. I felt the tension rising in the room and my pulse quickening every second. I didn't know what was about to happen. I was scared.

"Do you know why I've kept you alive?" I shook my head no. I was interested now.


	5. Harry

"Do you know why I've kept you alive?" I shook my head. I was interested now. I wanted to know, but I was also too scared to ask questions. My heart raced and so did my thoughts. I needed to know. If he was offering the information, I might as well take it.

"You're a crucial pawn in this game we're playing. That's all it is you know. It's just a game. Albus Dumbledore is still alive. This is my fault. I will admit that, but only to you Anna. I know you'll keep my secrets. If you don't, well, you know what will happen. I keep you alive to have someone to tell these things to. You are thinking that I don't tell you anything at all, aren't you? Well, my girl, I haven't told you anything because I was waiting until you were old enough to appreciate it all. You can't understand a war when you are five years old. So I waited all these years, keeping you alive without much reason, to have a confidant. Did you think you meant more than that?" It wasn't a question. I knew not to answer. He saw my eyes darting around the room to avoid eye contact at all costs.

"You're all healed. Stand up." I removed the blankets slowly, thankful that I was wearing a modest t-shirt and sweatpants, and gradually put my legs on the floor. I could stand with perfect ease.

"Get dressed properly. I'll soon require you in the entry way. We're going somewhere that I believe you'll find interesting. In your closet, you'll find new, nicer clothing. Put on something of that standard." He shut the door loudly as he left. I quickly undressed and found a dress in the closet that seemed appropriate. It was simple black bandeau dress. I put on black shrug over top of my shoulders and slipped into my high tops, the only shoes I owned. I fixed my hair as best I could and walked down to the entry way. He was waiting for me. He looked over my appearance, deemed it apt, and told me to follow him out the door. I didn't know where we were headed. He stuck out his hand. I understood the motion for side along apparition. No one had ever taught me the crucial skill of Apparating. It was just one more thing that was missing from my life. Although I really didn't want to, I took his hand. He mouthed a single word: Azkaban. I shuddered while thinking of it. The world swirled, and I felt the bile rising. I was too weak to apparate, but I didn't have much of a choice. We landed on the rock that housed the prison. I wondered vaguely how we'd been able to apparate onto the island. I'd been told it was impenetrable; magic or muggle methods couldn't break it. We walked into the towering prison. I shuddered as the cold of the air hit. Dementors were everywhere. I took out my wand. One thing I had learned was how to cast a patronus.

"Expecto Patronum." I murmured. A silver doe shot from my wand shrouding me with its light. He began speaking with a dementor. It was some language I didn't understand. I began looking around. Thousands of innocent wizards were here. I felt pangs of sympathy, pity, and pain for each and every one of them. I couldn't help but connect to them. But they had it worse off than I did in my opinion.

"Anna, come." Voldemort beckoned. I snapped out of my day dreams and followed him, the light from my patronus leading the way. I may have been thinking about something else, but my greatest memory overtook all of that. We walked forever, reaching the very top of the prison. There was only one cell on this floor. We walked down the extensive hall. My patronus illuminated the dingy walls. I still felt pangs of sympathy and squeamishness. Eventually, we reached the end of the hall where the cell was located.

"Anna, meet your brother, Harry James Potter."


	6. Dying

"But I heard… but I saw…" I stuttered, not believing what was in front of my eyes. I knew I'd heard three screams. I knew I'd seen three flashes. I knew I'd seen three bodies.

"It wasn't your brother I killed that night. It was your aunt. She was arguing with your mother. Your parents both fought to protect her also, but clearly, that didn't happen now did it?" I began hyperventilating silently. I couldn't believe this. Harry wasn't alive, couldn't be. I'd spent sixteen years thinking he was dead. I stepped up to the bars, hoping I could actually talk to my brother, hoping he remembered me.

"Harry?" I whispered. I held my breath waiting for a response.

"Anna?" He croaked feebly, coming slowly to the bars. He remembered. My heart would've soared, but in Azkaban, nothing soars.

"I thought you were dead." He breathed, slipping his pale white hand through the bars to grab mine. I took it and almost shrunk back. It was cold as ice. I put one hand over top and one hand underneath of his to warm it. I hadn't felt any sort of compassion in a long time. I felt as though my world had been completed. I turned to Voldemort, confidence renewed.

"How long have you kept him here?" I probed.

"Since he was nine." He answered simply. I wondered why he'd answered so willingly.

"Did you ever get to go to Hogwarts?" Harry asked quietly. I shook my head, still facing my captor.

"You lied to me for sixteen years. Sixteen God forsaken, torture filled years. And you choose now to tell me? Why?"

"That's always the question, isn't it Anna? Why? But there isn't always an answer to that question. Personally, I still wonder why I haven't killed the boy myself. Maybe it was because I enjoy watching him suffer. Where do you think I go every week? There aren't many places where I can just show up and be welcomed with open arms. This is one of the few places where I'm accepted, so I come to watch him suffer. He is very much alive though. Being placed in Azkaban when you were nine years of age and lasting till seventeen is quite a feat. I must say, I'm impressed."

"Wait, isn't he going to last _longer_ than seventeen?" I asked, fear clutching my heart and making it difficult to breath.

"Well, I figured you'd want to see him one last time before I killed him." This couldn't happen. I'd just been reunited with my brother. He wasn't going to die. Not if I was here. Hero instincts had to kick in. I willed my brain to come into action.

"Well, you're done here Anna. Now it's time. I don't know why I didn't do this sooner. I guess two trophies from that night were more satisfying than just one. Avada Kedavra!"

"NO." I jumped in front of the cell bars, half wondering why he could do magic inside of Azkaban, half wondering what it would be like to die. The curse hit me square in the chest. I screamed, falling to the floor. Then, there was nothing. Just blinding white nothingness. I was dead. Or so i thought...


	7. Recalled to Life (Tale of Two Cities Ref

****I am so sorry I haven't written! I've been really busy! Sorry for the cliff hanger, but I had to keep you guys reading and waiting somehow! However, I never intended to keep you waiting this long! Again, so sorry I haven't written! Here's the next chapter!

"Why? Why did he have to kill her? Why?" Narcissa cried, weeping at my feet. Wait, rewind at bit. Didn't I die? Why could I hear Narcissa crying? I shouldn't have been able to. Voldemort killed me. I was dead. There had been no doubt in my mind that I was dead. Especially since my mind had gone blank. There really couldn't be much doubt.

"You couldn't have done anything Narcissa. You're going to have to move on. We knew it would happen someday." Lucius stated calmly, about to leave the room judging by the sound of his footsteps.

"She doesn't have to move on from anything." I breathed; my voice barely more than a whisper. All breathing in the room ceased. Lucius stopped walking. Bellatrix stopped pacing. My eyes opened slowly. Narcissa was standing over top of me, her face tight with concern and anxiety. Her hair had begun to grey from worrying so much.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere for a long time." I whispered, smiling as best I could. Bellatrix rushed out of the room. Probably running off to find Voldemort. Looking around, I noticed that we were in my bedroom. Draco was standing in the corner staring at me in astonishment. Before Voldemort came, I realized I had to ask one question.

"Where's Harry?" I asked, my voice starting to come back to normal, but it was still very hoarse from not using it. How long had I been "dead?"

"I'm right here." My brother came into my line of vision. I tried to sit up, but immediately became dizzy and had to lie back down. He took my hand and squeezed it. I smiled up at him. My world was perfect for a split second. No Voldemort, no torture, my brother was here, Narcissa was here, and oh yeah, I wasn't dead. Suddenly, the door swung open. Voldemort strode in, not making eye contact with me, but with my brother.

"As long as I'm standing here, you're not touching my little sister." Harry took as protective stance in front of me. I wanted to tell him to be careful what he said. I'd learned that part the hard way several times.

"I won't touch her Potter. But I must speak to her. Wouldn't you want to speak to the girl who came back from the dead?" Harry stepped aside but only slightly. We'd just met practically, and he was already being the protector. God, I loved him.

"How?" Voldemort asked.

"Can you clarify that?" I replied sarcastically.

"Just because you came back from the dead, doesn't mean you can give me backtalk girl! How were you recalled to life?" (Oh my God I just made a Tale of Two Cities Reference. That book is getting to me.)

"Do you really think I know? One minute I was dead, the next I was alive. It's practically impossible in my opinion."

"Anna, you were presumed dead for a week." Harry interjected.

"So, essentially, I was in a coma?" I presumed. He nodded. The room was silent except for my shallow breathing. I ran over the details in my mind. A few meaningless questions (such as wouldn't they have buried me by now?) passed through my head. I didn't understand what was happening. I tried to sit up again, moving a little slower this time. As soon as I put the tiniest bit of pressure on my right wrist, I recoiled in pain, causing me to fall back down on to the mattress.

"What the hell…" I began, looking at my arm. It was wrapped tightly in a white bandage. Well, I assumed that it had been white a one time. Now it was a deep red color in certain spots. Blood, I figured.

"You got a little sliced up. And broken I might add." Harry replied vaguely. I wanted to argue and ask a million questions, but realized it wouldn't help my cause. They probably wanted me to shut up and fall back asleep or something. I did shut up, however unwillingly. Narcissa made eye contact with me through the tears clouding her vision. Was I really some sort of miracle? Honestly, I'd wanted to die. The last thing I wanted was to stick around and spend every day cowering in a corner while being hit with curse after curse. But, somehow, for some reason, however stupid it may be, I was here.

"My-my lord, may I please take Anna out of the room? I think she need a little bit of time to return to her proper state of mind." Narcissa asked timidly, afraid of unreasonable retaliation from the Dark Lord. He nodded, shockingly. Narcissa picked me up out of the bed and carried me to her bedroom. She set me down on her bed, and then hugged me as tight as she could.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She whispered in my ear, tears dripping off of her face.

"I am too," I lied, "I am too."


End file.
